


it might as well rain until september

by twohourstraffic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Gen, Slice of Life, Stargazing, idk i just love alicia a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohourstraffic/pseuds/twohourstraffic
Summary: Shitty’s last year feels like a countdown to graduation. To his future. A future in which Lardo is rather less accessible. It doesn’t sound like a good place to be. Or, Shitty pines.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Two updates in one day?? I must be staying with my grandparents!

_Leap_ , his father used to say, _and the net will appear_.

Shitty has never been one for platitudes.

* * *

Some days, he lies on the couch in the den, pointedly ignoring Bitty’s muttered comments regarding the hygiene-related implications of doing so, and stares at the ceiling. He finds shapes in the cracks, and tries to trace a line from one side of the room to the other, and pretends that he knows what his life is going to become.

He knows one thing for sure.

Whatever comes, he wants her by his side.

Only if she wants to be there, of course.

He knows that they’re friends – best friends. Soulmates, probably.

No-one has ever understood him quite in the way that she does. No-one can pull him out of his own head the way she can. Jack, bless his heart, knows everything there is to know about Shitty and yet … Lardo is different.

He closes his eyes with a groan.

He’s in so deep.

* * *

“Shitty, do you know where Lards is?”

“Hmm?”

He’s been sitting in the reading room with a textbook and a joint, one of which is receiving more attention than the other.

“Shits, it’s not even lunchtime.” Holster, poking his head through the window, looks vaguely concerned, like he thinks he should be more concerned or surprised than he is and is trying to compensate.

“Yeah, I know. What did you say?”

“Do you know where Lardo is?”

“She had class until eleven, but I think she said she was going to try and get extra studio time. I guess she’s there? I haven’t really seen her for weeks, she’s so busy getting this portfolio ready.”

“Kay. I might text. I need to ask her about the travel arrangements for the next trip. D’you think she’ll have her team stuff with her at the studio?”

“I have no idea, man.”

“Yeah, OK,” Holster says with a sigh. “See you later, bro. Love you.”

Shitty grabs Holster’s t-shirt as he starts to walk away. “Tell Lardo I said hi if you see her,” he says quietly. “Tell her I miss her.”

Holster chuckles. “Will do, bud.”

* * *

They’ll be lying on the grass in the Quad, him on his stomach while she’s on her back, watching the clouds go by. She’ll point out shapes and he’ll pull a muscle in his shoulder trying to see them, and she’ll chide him but massage the sore spot anyway.

 _You’re a college athlete,_ she’ll chirp. _Why can’t your body handle a stretch?_

 _I bet it didn’t even look like a palm tree_ , he’ll groan.

_It totally did. Sorry you missed it, dumbass._

Then he’ll attempt to tackle her and she’ll dig her heels into his spine and he’ll admit defeat, settling back down to his book while she braids flowers into his tangled hair.

It wouldn’t be bad if they were never anything more than friends, he tells himself. He’s so lucky to have her. She’s his best friend. She’s his fuckin’ heart.

* * *

“Hey, bud, can I grab the –”

He stops in his tracks when he notices that Jack is sitting on his bed with his headphones in and probably can’t hear him. Shitty shoves his way onto Jack’s bed, then notices Alicia waving from the laptop screen.

Jack sighs but pulls out his headphone jack.

“Hey, Mrs Z,” Shitty says with a smile. “How’s Montreal?”

“It’s OK. It’s technically Spring, but it’s been either raining and snowing for a week. I swear the government have a contract with the world’s umbrella manufacturers, I’ve broken three this week. The winds have been crazy, I don’t know –”

“Mom, he doesn’t care about the weather,” Jack says with an apologetic shrug.

“Shut up, you.” Shitty shoves him and grabs the laptop, pulling it over to sit on his knees. “Please tell me about the weather all day, Mrs Z. If it saves me from writing my piece of shit thesis, I’ll take it.” He pauses. “Not that the weather isn’t interesting, I just –”

“I get it, honey,” she grins. “How’s the thesis coming along, anyway? Jack was just telling me that his first draft has received some good feedback from his supervisor.”

Shitty startles, turning to Jack with a frown. “Are you fuckin’ – your first draft is done already? It isn’t due for three weeks! The final essay isn’t due for _two months_!”

Jack, as always, refuses to look apologetic. “Number one, don’t swear in front of my mom. And secondly, if you worked on it a little bit at a time like I do, you’d be in the same position.”

“Yeah, but fu – screw that, man. Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

Jack shrugs. “I dunno, it’s interesting. It’s not a big deal.”

Shitty turns back to the laptop with a pained expression. “Mrs Z, please tell me you weren’t like this at college.”

Alicia snorts. “Oh my God, no. I pulled so many all-nighters, I’m not sure how I got my first modelling contract. I had bags under my eyes the size of Texas.”

“Maman!” Jack looks truly scandalized.

“Hush you,” she says with a grin. “Shitty understands me. It’s just easier to do stuff when you’ve got a tight deadline. Although, when your dad was writing that column for the _Globe_ , he would always have a draft done at least a day before so I could read it and give him suggestions.”

“The Zimmer-men are both overachievers? I’m not sure why I’m surprised. At least your mom gets it, man.”

Alicia grins at him. “So, what else is going on, sweetheart? We haven’t spoken for so long! Are you seeing anyone?”

“He’s still in love with Larissa,” Jack says smugly in French. “But he’s too scared to do anything about it.”

Shitty studied enough French at school to know what Jack says. He also knows that Lardo (a) isn’t in the house, and (b) doesn’t speak French, but that doesn’t stop him from punching Jack in the shoulder. Harder than was necessary.

Probably.

“Ow! Fuck, Shitty, Jesus!”

“Jack! Language!”

“Maman, he –”

“Jack Laurent, I saw what he did. And I heard what you said.”

“Il n’est pas incorrect,” Shitty mutters in his terrible accent. Jack sniggers, and Shitty has to keep himself from punching him again. “Mais –”

The front door slams loudly.

“Anyone home?” Lardo’s voice calls up the stairs. “Shits? I know you don’t have class! I brought coffee.”

“You’re a _goddess_ ,” he calls back. “Bye, Mrs Z!”

He’s off the bed and running for the door before she can reply. Behind him, he hears Jack’s exasperated sigh.

* * *

He’s known her for three weeks when he sees a phone case covered with ducklings. They had been having a debate the previous day about whether ducks or sloths are the cutest baby animals, and he loves to have the final say. He buys it and gives it to her with a grin.

She’s still using it, two years later.

The argument is long forgotten.

* * *

Shitty twists his ankle in practice and has to sit the next game out. He’s furious with himself – it was a stupid mistake, the team needs him, they’re two points down at the end of the second and maybe his presence could have been the difference they needed.

He sits next to Lardo and fumes.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re not worth a penny, but you can have them for free,” Shitty grumbles. “Stupid fuckin’ ankle. Stupid fuckin’ mistake, I should have been watching where I was going. Now we’re going to lose and it’s all my fault and I just –”

“Shits, you’re harshing my vibe. Calm the fuck down or go home, OK? For the last time, it wasn’t your fault. It was a bad fall, you got hurt, you’ll be fine for next week.”

“Yeah, but –”

“There is no _yeah but_. You got hurt. It happened. Shit sucks. The boys will do what they can without you, and next week they’ll do what they can with you. You can’t change the past, bro.”

Shitty groans loudly. “Stop being so sensible.”

She sticks her tongue out at him with a grin. “One of us has to be.”

He tries to shove her but she’s braced herself against the wall and he almost falls off his seat.

* * *

The thing is … she’s just so great. So wonderful. So wonderfully, terribly out of his league.

He doesn’t normally believe in leagues. It’s stupid self-defeating bullshit. People fall for whoever they want to fall for, leagues aside.

But she’s just so … Lardo. So incredible. So perfect.

Every time he tries to make a move, he chickens out. Or she doesn’t understand.

He’s so close to giving up. He’d rather have her in his life than scare her away with his truly awful flirting.

* * *

“Hey, you wanna get a coffee?”

“Yeah, cool. Just gimme a few, OK? I want to get this done before Darren takes over the studio and washes my palate again. I swear to God, you spend ten minutes mixing the perfect shade and then –”

“Whatever you need, babe. I’ll be here.”

He plays 2048 until she’s ready to go, hip-checking her gently as she moves past him to the basin in the corner. The water runs murky with the paint from her fingers, coating the sides of the basin with that paint scum that can never be completely removed.

“Hey, nerd. You’ve got paint in your hair.”

Lardo examines herself in the mirror above the sink. “So I have. How do you know it’s not intentional? We artists, we do strange things.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second, but it’s not the best location if you want people to notice it.”

She stops and turns to him. “You noticed it.”

“I notice a lot of things.”

“Sure you do, loser.”

* * *

She laughs at the cute barista’s joke. His heart breaks a little more.

* * *

“Did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Ask Lardo out.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you OK with that?”

“Fuck, Rans … I don’t know.”

“OK.”

* * *

He’s going to Harvard next year. He’s going all the way to Harvard, although it’s not that far from Samwell. Maybe an hour or two. Less by car. She could come visit. She will come visit.

He could show her that park that he sat in before his interview. Where he lay under a tree and tried to find shapes. He’s not creative like she is. The best he could find was a sheep. But sheep are shaped like clouds, so he’s not sure that counts.

“Shitty?” Bitty interrupts his half-formed musing by appearing out of nowhere with a grin, cell phone open to Pinterest in one hand. “Any requests for dinner? At least a cuisine? I promised Lardo I’d sort out food for craft night but I’m fresh out of ideas, and Lord help Jack’s blood pressure if we get takeout again.”

Shitty closes his eyes. “I don’t know, bud. Maybe Mexican? Tacos?”

He hears Bitty come closer, sit down next to him and reach up a hand to stroke his arm.

“Is everything OK, sweetheart?”

He tries to smile, although it’s closer to a grimace. “Yeah, Bits. I’m OK. Just getting lost in my thoughts, is all. Nothing to worry about.”

“Well, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, man. I love you. I’m just working through some stuff right now. With Harvard and … just everything.”

“Alright, honey. You know where to find me.”

* * *

They go out for drinks and end up lying in the quad, star-gazing. They’re all there, Ransom and Holster and Jack and Bitty. Lardo has her head on Holster’s stomach and her bare feet on Shitty’s thighs.

“There’s Orion’s belt,” Ransom murmurs. “You see that line, just there?” He points but no-one’s looking.

“I know Cassiopeia,” Jack replies. “And the Big Dipper. And the Little Dipper, obviously. That’s you, Bittle.”

There is a thump and a pained grunt, like someone kicks someone else in the side.

“There’s Draco, the snake,” Lardo says quietly. She raises one leg to trace it with her toes. “It’s the band passing through the other constellations. Between the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper.”

She replaces her foot on Shitty’s leg and he picks it up, massaging it. She wiggles her toes happily, whispering a “You’re the best” in his general direction.

“Why don’t you ever massage my feet?” Holster protests.

“Because he’s seen your shoes,” Ransom chirps. “Why would anyone go anywhere near _your_ feet?”

“Everyone can take it in turns,” Lardo decides. “But I get to go first. Because he likes me best.”

Shitty can’t find it in himself to disagree.

* * *

He sits on the reading room and thinks about graduation. About how close it is, how much it will change.

About how far away she’ll be afterwards.

Obviously she won’t be _that_ far. Geographically. They’re both from Boston, so they’ll be spending their summers together, but she won’t be five minutes away. She won’t be living on his couch. He won’t be seeing her every day.

Sometimes she joins him on the reading room and they share a joint, passing it back and forth amiably. In those moments, he doesn’t let himself dream.

He’s not sure why he can’t just be happy with what he has. It’s so much more than he feels he deserves.

* * *

The evening before graduation, Lardo presents him with his graduation present. It’s taller than she is, a painting of truly ridiculous proportions. It’s abstract, but he knows exactly what it is and his heart catches in his chest.

“Lards, you shouldn’t –”

“If you tell me I shouldn’t have, I’ll take it back and give it to someone else. Maybe Jack. His present is looking decidedly lacklustre in comparison.”

“Wait, what did he get?”

She smiles. “A card and a tie. One to replace that heinous one that Bitty won’t let him throw out because it matches his eyes exactly.”

“No way! You found a replacement for The Tie? Fuckin’ finally, it’s been years. Alicia had it en route to the trash before Bitty found her – I’ve never seen him so furious.”

Lardo giggles. “It can finally make its way to the great donation bin in the sky.”

There is a moment of comfortable silence before, “Thank you, Lards. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome, bud.”

Shitty folds her into a hug, his nose filling with her lemongrass shampoo and the hairspray which she will go to her grave denying she uses.

“I’m going to miss you so much, babe. You have no idea.”

She pulls away, sniffing as softly as she can. “Please don’t do this, Shitty.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. I’m going to miss you so fuckin’ much that my heart hurts. Can we just … pretend that you’re not going anywhere? Just for a minute?”

She’s never this honest.

He pulls her gently over to his bed, and they lie down, facing each other. She rests her head on his shoulder and he places his arm gently over her waist and they just … lie there. Breathing. Together. They’ve done this so many times, but it’s never felt quite like this.

He presses a kiss into her hair and feels her smile against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://murrayhewitt.tumblr.com) if you so desire.


End file.
